


Guardians

by manisadarklaven, sinkingwmyships



Series: Tales of Shioura [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternative Universe - Mafia, Gen, Haikyuu!! AU, Haikyuu!! Mafia AU, M/M, Multi, Nekoma, Special Forces
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-10-17 17:52:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17565200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manisadarklaven/pseuds/manisadarklaven, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinkingwmyships/pseuds/sinkingwmyships
Summary: It could have just been a normal job in the (not-so-)normal line of work for Shioura city's best Elite Force... if a certain organization didn't feel the need to butt in and ruin it all. But thanks to that, they were now closer than ever to revealing the secrets they never knew laid right under their noses.





	1. Chapter 1

"Have you heard? _They_ have a job again."

"Oh, really? Do you know what it is?"

"How would I know? _They_ wouldn't be the Elite Force if I had!"

"Yeah, you have a point. _They_ take orders from the General all the time... it must be so nerve-wracking!"

"I don't think it matters to _them_ at all. Looking at the stuff _they_ have done already... I don't think anything could possibly intimidate _them_!"

"Just who the heck are you two talking about?"

 _Tmp_. As if on cue, footsteps began to sound at the end of the starkly-lit hallway. The three guards immediately fell silent, only daring to steal glances at the three who'd just walked in. Black-cladded, eyes sharp, faces unreadable... their presence alone was enough to send chills down the common soldiers' backs, and this wasn’t even the complete team.

"Oi, shrimpy, quit tossing that dagger." A low whisper sounded. "You're gonna make those poor guys crap their pants."

The person that just spoke is a young man, seemingly in his twenties. With his light brown, windswept hair, his gorgeous physique, and that killer smirk, anyone would have thought he was some kind of actor or model at first glance. Of course, all of that would vanish when they see the way his eyes gleam in battle... but that would come at a later time.

"Are you sure it's not you who's gonna crap your pants, Oikawa-san? I could stop for you if you ask nicely." The other guy, a short ginger with a spring in his step, turned to face the brunette, sporting a rather irritating grin on his face. Scowling, Oikawa swiftly seized the dagger midair, before holding the weapon up high, chuckling at the other’s effort to reach it. The ginger gritted his teeth:

"Oikawa-san, I swear to god..."

"Hinata, Oikawa, shut up." A voice rose from the front of the group, not particularly aggressive or loud, but somehow more than enough to quieten said two. The person who'd just spoken, a tall man with narrowed eyes and hair like a rooster's comb, sighed quietly as he continued walking. Behind him, a silent battle for the dagger continued until they reached the shiny black double doors.

"The door, please."

"Y-Yes!" The three guards visibly jumped, before stumbling over each other to push the doors open. A gust of ice-cold air rushed out, making them shake even more. Unbothered by their reactions, the three males entered the room, each sitting down on their respective seats around a circular table. Two seats were already occupied, one by an elderly man with a slight smile on his face, and the other by a younger, dark-haired one, who was furiously typing away on his keyboard. A muted slam told them all that the door to the boardroom has just been closed, which meant it was time for business.

“Thank you for your time.” The elderly man began. “I will get straight to the point. We have a mission for you three. Naoi, if you would.”

The younger man nodded, and immediately everyone’s computer screens lit up with newly received information. It was a brief profile of a man in his forties, undoubtedly their client for the next job. The elderly man spoke:

“His name is Hoshiko Payne, and he’s the person you’ll be accompanying this evening. You will go with him from location X back to his hotel, which is a 20-minute drive. How you do it is up to you; just make sure he gets back safely.”

“Yes, sir.” The three males spoke in unison. Still smiling, the elderly man continued:

“Just a reminder, Mr. Payne is an important foreign business partner of ours. There is no room for error. Not that I have to tell you that now…”

“The mission will be a success, Nekomata-senpai.”

 

***

 

 _“Alright, I’ve had enough. Why do_ **_I_ ** _have to be the undercover one_ **_again_** _?”_

“We’re all undercover, shrimpy.” Oikawa muttered, his hands swiftly doing a last-minute weapon and ammo check. In his earpiece, Hinata’s too-loud voice continued on:

 _“Yeah, I get that much. I’m not dumb, Grand King. What I mean is… why can’t we just watch for threats_ **_together_ ** _? Why am I_ **_always_ ** _the one that has to scurry around in the darkness, while you guys get to meet the clients and hear all the juicy stuff?”_

“Well--” “Well, Hinata, that’s because you’re the best at it.” Opposite to him, Kuroo spoke up calmly, checking all of his holsters one last time. The irritated expression on Oikawa’s face was hard to miss as the ginger’s voice rose again: 

_“O-oh? Kuroo-san… you really… whoa… I can’t believe it! Are you serious?! I feel so much better now!”_

“You do? That’s good.” The black-haired man replied dismissively. “Then perhaps you could start focusing on the actual job, and not your invalid jealousy? The client is here.”

“Honestly, Tetsu-chan… you just had to crush him like that.” Oikawa smirked, before turning it into his signature warm smile. “Mr. Payne! How nice to finally meet you.”

Kuroo took the opportunity to look their client over. Middle-aged, neat and sophisticated-looking, he seemed like the smart, well-off type. He had shaken Oikawa’s hand, which meant he was either not very careful, or just really certain that there were no threats -- it was probably the latter, since Kuroo noticed the pack of menacing bodyguards following close behind. _Not to worry,_ he thought to himself, _the mission will be a success._

“Loading now.” He informed Hinata as their client climbed onto the backseat of one of the black SUVs, before following suit. “Stay close behind. Inform us immediately if you think there’s a threat.”

“Yessir.” The cars began to move, speeding up a little as they approached the main road. The pickup location was in one of the older parts of the city, so there wasn’t a lot of space for the SUVs to be going at top speed; still, they would reach the drop-off location in 20 minutes max. Kuroo glanced at Oikawa, _seems like this one will be a piece of cake._

It seemed like he'd spoken too soon.

Hinata’s warning came as soon as Kuroo registered the explosion. In front of them, a car had just shot up from the ground in a brilliant blast of bright orange, accompanied by a deafening boom. As the remnants flipped over, he felt their own car skid to a stop. _Wise move. All the cars are probably rigged._

“Mr. Payne, please follow me!” Oikawa was already pulling the client out from the backseat when the SUV’s floor ruptured with a white-hot flash. Thanking whatever god out there that’d helped him make it out in time, Kuroo scrambled up from the ground and dashed towards their client. Oikawa turned to him:

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Kuroo nodded briefly, gun already in hand as they ran into an alley ahead. “What do you think? Hitmen? Some kind of organization?” 

“Dunno. Let’s just get him to safety-- Look out!” The brunette didn’t get to finish his sentence as a handful of bullets zipped past them, barely missing the three. Pushing a shaking Mr. Payne down and against the wall, Oikawa barked:

“Hinata?!”

_“I don’t see anyone. A sniper maybe?”_

“A horrible one at that.” Kuroo commented as he looked up from his crouched position for a possible target, but found none. “Did you see the direction the bullets came from? Find them, take them out. Oikawa and I’ve got this.”

_“Roger.”_

“Tetsu, we’ve got no backup _at all_.” Oikawa reminded him as the sound of three other explosions shook the nearby buildings, indicating that the remainder of Mr. Payne’s bodyguards were probably all dead. “We can’t take him back to the hotel, they probably have someone waiting there already.” 

“Then we go back to the pickup location. Sir, do you have safety measures back there?” Kuroo asked swiftly. The client nodded:

“I have more men… and contacts…” 

“That’s good enough.” Kuroo cut him off. “How far away is it… five minutes? We can make it. I’ll cover, you just stay close to the houses okay?”

Taking Oikawa’s nod as confirmation to proceed, Kuroo poked his head out of the alley. _Right, left, clear._ He was about to beckon to the brunette, when a shadow from above suddenly loomed over. A punch nailed him smack in the back of his head, and Kuroo stumbled to the ground, stars exploding in his vision.

“This way!” He heard Oikawa’s shout, not long before receiving another kick to the stomach. Tasting metal in his mouth, Kuroo forced himself up, but it seemed like his attacker had a different plan. A booted leg flew across his face, and in his pained daze Kuroo could make out a blonde mohawk above him.

“Block him off.” Someone spoke -- not Mohawk Guy though, since Kuroo saw him turning away as if to follow the order. Pushing himself up, Kuroo scrambled after the attacker, before throwing his entire body weight onto the man. It seemed like he was still a bit off-balance though, since Mohawk Guy grabbed onto his arms and decked him in a single, swift movement. Not accepting his defeat, Kuroo whipped out his gun and fired twice, successfully lodging a bullet into his attacker’s thigh. Mohawk Guy dropped to the ground, and Kuroo took that chance to knock him out with a kick to the face (which he took great pleasure in doing). But before he could bask in that glory for long, an extremely shaken Mr. Payne pulled him to one side, clutching onto his arm like a terrified five-year-old child:

“You! You have to… to protect me! I can’t die! You have to make sure of it! I can’t die! I can’t--”

“Shut your mouth!” A harsh voice made Kuroo’s head snap towards the alley. “And you, rooster-head. Hand him over or this pretty one dies.”

Kuroo almost didn’t recognize Oikawa’s kneeling form in the darkness of the alley, with a gleaming gun pointed at his head… and a figure behind him too, just barely out of sight. Whipping his own gun out, the black-haired agent hauled Mr. Payne up from the ground and pressed it to his temple, much to the latter’s surprise:

“I’d like to see you try.”

The figure cocked their gun, stance unwavering. A pair of sharp, light brown eyes looked pointedly at Kuroo’s client:

“He isn’t of much use to us anyway. If you do pull the trigger, it would be a favour done for us.”

“No! No! Don’t you dare… You, listen to me! I have more than enough money to give you if I live! If you protect me! If--” Poor Mr. Payne didn’t have time to finish, as he was ruthlessly pushed to the ground by Kuroo and made to shut up. Directing his gun to Mohawk Guy, who seemed to be out cold on the ground, the agent smiled:  

“Well then… my colleague for yours.”

“I would… if only your colleague was half as smart.” A light chuckle sounded, just as Oikawa yelled:

“Kuroo, you idiot!”

BANG!

Kuroo did not have time to register where that shot came from, but what he did feel was his gun being yanked out of his hand, and then a sturdy arm clamping around his neck. Stumbling, he tried to find decent footing, before attempting to flip Mohawk Guy over; but it was painfully clear that he was no match for him when it came to strength. Gasping for breath, he could see Oikawa lying in a dark pool of liquid in the alley, before the other attacker stepped out from behind him -- a short but intimidating man, with light brown hair and eyes of the same color. The gun in his hand was still cocked; and with a curl of his index finger, Mr. Payne was dead. 

“Kkfff… you…!” Kuroo tried to speak, but his chest was burning up without oxygen. He could feel it all over as well, in his weak kicks, slacking arms, and aching throat. Through his blurry vision, Kuroo could make out the brunette’s free hand traveling up to his ear, where he pressed onto his earpiece. Mohawk Guy’s voice sounded faint:

“... kill?”

Those sharp brown eyes fell on Kuroo again.

“… necessary. His employer… deal with him later.… dead?” 

“I think so.”

…

 _“… san…? Capt…?”_  

… 

_“KUROO-SAN?!”_

Kuroo’s eyes fluttered open, and instinctively he gasped, almost choking on air. Hinata’s voice sounded twice, once in the earpiece and once right in front of him, as the ginger skidded to a stop and helped Kuroo up: 

“Are you okay?!”

“Y-yeah…” Kuroo coughed between his word, shook his head and blinked the tears away, frantically motioning to the alley. “Oi-Oikawa…! He… is he alright? Why are you here?”

“It wasn’t a sniper!” Hinata’s voice still sounded faraway, like Kuroo was underwater. “I’m sorry! He ran before I could catch up! And I didn’t wanna point-blank kill him, since I thought you might have wanted to bring him back for… anyway! Oh my god… is that Hishoko Payne?”

“It’s H-Hoshiko…” Kuroo staggered over to his client, and just as he’d thought, the man was dead. _And you thought you had this one in the bag…_ Head snapping towards Hinata, he barked:

“Go check on Oikawa! I’ll make those bastards pay.”

Ignoring the ginger’s protests, Kuroo shot up from the ground and raced after his two attackers. _Where did they go? Where did they go?!_ One of them was injured, so they couldn’t have made it that far. The trail of blood he was following thinned and thinned, but it led Kuroo to a dank, dimly-lit back street. Not bothering to hide himself, Kuroo cocked his handgun and lunged into the darkness.

All was silent. He could hear his own soft footsteps, his still-ragged breathing, the thundering of his heart… _Kuroo Tetsurou, mission failed!_ Already it had sounded so wrong. No one, _no one_ , is allowed to just swoop in and straight up kill his clients like that. So that was why, when the first slink of the shadow caught his eye, Kuroo had raised his arm and took a shot.

BANG! The sound of a bullet piercing flesh was the only indicator Kuroo needed, as his whole body shot forward on instinct and collided with another. The figure slammed against a nearby wall with an audible crack, before doubling over from a knee in his stomach. Kuroo would have broken his nose too, but his fist missed by a centimeter as somebody yanked him backwards. Not that _that_ could ever stop him; before long, the second attacker was on the ground as well, blood streaming from both his nostrils.

“Who hired you?” His voice was barely recognizable. He expected an answer, but all Kuroo caught was a slim flash in front of his eyes, before something like a length of cord wrapped itself around his neck, jerking him back. _A third attacker._ Not wasting a moment, the black-haired agent elbowed them once, then twice in the ribs; his other hand worked on getting his knife out from his belt, and with a slice he was free. The attacker’s punch caused him to stumble forward, but the pain was almost nonexistent as Kuroo twisted his body and launched the knife from his hand. The blade sank deep into the attacker’s arm, and his painful howl made Kuroo’s mouth turn upwards in some sort of sick smile. _They really don’t know who they’re dealing with._

“You won’t get your answer that easily.” The one bleeding at the nose — Mohawk Guy, Kuroo realized — shot up from the ground, and though his punch was blocked, it still sent the agent flying back into the arms of the first attacker. It was his turn to be pinned to the wall now, and as the short brunette held yet another knife against his throat, Kuroo found himself comically raising an eyebrow:

“You think this piece of metal will kill me?”

“Won’t know until I’ve tried.” Shorty retorted, but before he could get rid of Kuroo, the rooster-head had grabbed hold of his arm and twisted it like a lump of playdough. A wet crack echoed, along with the brunette’s scream, as his own knife was forced into his back. Discarding the writhing man like a ragdoll, Kuroo caught the fist of Mohawk Guy, before ramming his knee into the man’s abdomen. Once. Twice. He didn’t think the guy was conscious enough to feel the third one — which was sorta good, in a way, he supposed.

Finally, after having pushed Mohawk Guy’s limp body to the ground, Kuroo turned to the short brunette. His hazel eyes gleamed coldly as he spoke:

“A name for three lives. That fair?”

“In your dreams, you— AAAGH!” The brunette’s reply was cut short as Kuroo’s boot stomped mercilessly onto the bullet wound on his arm. “Alright! Alright! Damn you…”

“Hurry up already.” Kuroo ordered monotonously, pulling out his last gun. Underneath him, the brunette wheezed, his trapped arm flailing for a moment, before stilling:

“I’ll give it to you alright… Take _this_!”

Two sharp prongs were thrusted into Kuroo’s calf, and fresh electricity surged through his body. As he buckled, the last thing Kuroo saw was the brunette’s eyes, sharp and mocking, before everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

“Kenma!” The door burst open, and Kuroo saw himself rushing into the room, a familiar scene unfolding in front of his eyes. “Look what I just found.” His voice was pure and high, like a little kid.

“Later, Kuro. I have to get through this first.” A small boy was sitting on the bed beside the window, his thumbs continuously tapping on a video game console. The sound of the game he was playing was a nice and familiar tune to Kuroo’s ears.

“No, you have to go with me!” Oh, he couldn’t believe he once had this voice, it really made him sick just by listening to it. Kuroo looked at himself pulling the other boy’s hand, causing said boy to sigh and put the game console down to follow him:

“Alright, Kuro.”

Everything around him began to twist as they ran through the door. Kuroo then found himself sitting on a river bank, the sound of water flowing right beside his ears. He was looking at the sunset, its orange hues reflecting off of the water always seemed to calm his troubled mind.

“Are you quitting just because of that?” A voice rose behind him, not too loud but enough to capture his attention. Kuroo turned around to see that boy again; his hair was jaw-length, black and straight, cupping his small, pale face. His eyes were locked with Kuroo’s, their cat-like pupils a luminous gold in the sunset.

“Ah, Kenma.” That was all he could say.

“If that was all it took to make you give up, I should’ve known.” Kenma said as he sat down beside Kuroo, tossing him a box of juice. “I’m disappointed. After 6 years of having to go with you every time you want to show me a new move, this is my reward? You wanting to give up on your dream after a single defeat?”

Kuroo’s hazel eyes widened. He had never heard Kenma talk this much before, especially in a single breath. Kenma seemed irritated, much like whenever he failed to clear a video game level and has to start all over again. Somehow, that made Kuroo a little irritated at himself, too.

They fell into silence. A breeze passed by, blowing through Kenma’s black hair. Kuroo caught himself staring.

He opened his mouth, prepared to say something. But his words were drowned out by the sound of car doors closing with a fierce force. The scenery, and Kenma, melted away into the darkness, just moments before an ice-cold feeling fell upon Kuroo. He felt like the skin was just peeled off from his face. Water flooded into his nose and mouth, preventing him from breathing. He coughed several times, throat feeling as dry as if he hadn’t drank any water for a week. His eyes snapped open. The sound of doors closing was right beside his ears.

It was all blurry, even as he blinked several times to clear his vision. The only light bulb hanging from the ceiling was dim, but due to the fact that the light was shifting around, there must have been someone here recently. Overall, the room that he was in was small and barren, with slightly moldy walls, a heavy iron door, and two chairs facing each other, one of which was the one Kuroo was on.

Moments later, the effect of the cold water laid off, and warmth began to come back to his body. His calf was still throbbing from when he was tased, and coldness of the metal chain dug into his wrists and ankles, making him feel uncomfortably similar to a prisoner.

 _Well, you kind of are._ Kuroo thought to himself as he shook his arms to test the stability of the chains. They were carefully done, tight so he couldn’t pull his hand out, but still loose enough for him to move a little bit. _Whoever did this must have a lot of experience._

A sudden crash made him jump. Following that was a loud, hoarse and angry voice, boots stomping, and the door bursting open. The sudden bright light from the outside forced Kuroo’s eyes to squint.

He watched as the man who’d just opened the door walked in. They’d fought just before he was sneak-attacked by another man. Looking at him now, covered in dirt, dried blood still sticking to his lips in faded brown-red spots, Kuroo felt a sense of superiority in knowing that he was the one who’d caused that appearance. He was short, Kuroo knew, but from this angle, he was unexpectedly shorter than what the agent remembered. In the man’s hands was a folder, and the black-haired agent wondered what it contained.

“You.” Kuroo tried to speak, but his words were stuck inside his throat, causing him to sound like a choked chicken. He cleared his throat in an attempt to take back his voice. “Who the hell do you work for? Why did you kill my client?”

“Please note that you are the one who’s tied down here, not me.” The other man said as he made a gesture to call in four more of his people. The politeness in his voice was so spurious, it made Kuroo want to stand straight up and punch him in the face.

Under the dim light, his short, light brown hair looked a little blonde-ish, and he had the sharp eyes that could prick a hole through your chest and see the darkest parts of your soul. A chill ran down Kuroo’s spine as those eyes scanned him from head to toe. Then the man lowered himself onto the chair in front of Kuroo, and began:

“What is your name? Who do _you_ work for? What was your purpose for protecting Hoshiko Payne? Do you know that he had previous accusations of human trafficking and counterfeiting?”

The other men have all taken up their positions. Mohawk Guy, whom Kuroo recognized as the memories of their fight slowly came back to him, was guarding the door; another tall man with a buzz cut, possibly the third attacker from his familiar build, stood closeby to prevent Kuroo from trying anything funny; and two others standing just outside the door, all armed. _Unnecessary._ Escaping without any answers never even crossed Kuroo’s mind. Besides, the shorty’s question just now had caught his attention.

“We would never protect someone we know nothing about. He had no previous accusations or convictions. You’re just trying to make killing an innocent man seem justified. It isn’t. That’s all.” Ignoring most of the questions, Kuroo retorted, eyes locked onto the brunette’s as he searched for a hint of shock, or a flick of hesitation. But the man showed none. Instead, he just sighed, seemingly disappointed but not entirely surprised. Somehow, that ticked Kuroo off a little.

“It’s clear that you aren’t all that well-informed about your clients. Mr. Payne had no convictions or accusations… until two years ago. This is mostly unknown to the public, but we have found more than enough evidence of his crimes.” The short brunette opened the folder in his hand, and from it he took out about a dozen pictures and threw them on the ground right in front of Kuroo’s toe cap. Most of them were blurry, but the agent instantly recognized that black SUV, with a very familiar plate number. Looking up, he asked:

“How do I know if these are real photos?”

As if he had known that Kuroo would ask something like that, the short man answered right away:

“You can take these with you to check. We won’t mind.”

Looking down to the photos again, Kuroo squinted in the dim light. In one of them, Payne was getting out of his car in a fancy suit, possibly for some kind of formal, high-end party. Another picture showed a slender brunette, completely naked, wrists and ankles chained up -- but instead of looking miserable, he seemed like he was in complete satisfaction and happiness, to the point that it was unnatural. There were a handful of other pictures like that, showing people in cages, chained, all having the same expression on their faces.

_Nasty._

“Why are you showing this to me?” He muttered as his eyes darted to another one. It showed a man with clipboard on his arm standing next to one of the cages, like he was doing a check up on the person inside. Although his face was hidden behind a surgical mask, Kuroo recognized him rightaway. Disgust rose in his stomach.

“They’re all homeless. Nobody knows or cares about them. That makes them easy targets.” The brunette man spoke. “That was why Payne was able to “work” without police or media interference.”

Kuroo raised his head so that he could look at the man in front of him. “Who _are_ you? What do you want from me?”

“We belong to Nekoma.”

Kuroo had heard this name before; he was certain it was somewhere in his currently scrambled memory. “What do you want? My help? An apology for beating you up black and blue? Whatever it is, I won’t give it to you.”

“Please answer our questions first.” Ah, he could remember now -- Nekoma, the Tokyo mafia that has been going after people involved in politics for these past 4 months. They had a big amount of supporters, despite their infamous reputation.

“Kuroo Tetsurou. I work for a bodyguard company.” He said, eyes unblinking. He had been lying to everyone for years since he joined the Force. This is nothing. “We were just doing what the contract told us to.”

“Alright, Kuroo.” A shiver ran down his back when the man said his name. “We think you have the potential to be a part of Nekoma. Money won’t be a problem.”

“I absolutely do not want to be a part of an organization that blindly abducts and kills people. Even if they’d committed crimes, there are courts. You can’t just straight up grab a gun and shoot them like it’s nothing.”

“Oh, so you care about justice? We are purifying this world. People like Hoshiko Payne need to be eliminated. He had committed and managed to get away with frankly too many crimes, using his wealth and connections. The courts would be useless.” The brunette male said. “What we do is vital, and we will continue doing it, for as long as we deem necessary. Half of this country supports us. If you care about justice as much as you claim to, you should understand that we are right.”

Kuroo didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Deep down, he knew they were right. But he wanted to believe in the government, in Nekomata. He didn’t want to admit that what he had been doing for almost his whole life, was all wrong.

After a long silence, the man with the buzz cut stepped toward Kuroo and yanked him out of his chair, making it fall down with a crash. “I think that’s enough. Let’s go, Kuro.”

“It’s Kuro _o_! And where else are you taking me?”

“Back to where you came from.” The man replied curtly while pulling a confused and chained up Kuroo out of the room, into a hallway, out of a door and into a white van that he guess was the one they used to bring him here. The short brunette, Mohawk Guy, and the four other guards also got on.

Buzz Cut Man unchained Kuroo while the other kept their guns steadily pointed at him, which made Kuroo felt somewhat appreciated, since they didn’t underrate him like most others. But that wasn’t the main reason why he didn’t start throwing punches at them the moment he was unchained. He was so busy thinking about what they had told and showed him earlier, about the pictures. One of the men shoved the folder into his arms. “You can keep this.”

Everything after that was a blur. The back of the van felt almost surreal, the air so still and silent Kuroo could even hear his thoughts. He wasn’t sure when they’d dropped him off at that alley where they fought and he lost, where blood still stained the ground and the walls; when the van had drove off and left him all alone in the darkness; when his legs automatically began to take him back to base. He was still clutching the folder they gave him, and in his daze, the only thing he noticed was his troubled mind, jumping back and forth between vague questions and unfound answers.

 

***

 

Meanwhile, on the top floor of a skyscraper in the central district of the city, a young man took his white headphones down from his head. He seemed just about twenty, his straight, jaw-length hair dyed blonde, black roots showing at the top. Most of it fell forward to obscure his face when he lowered his head to look at the white-with-tawny-spots cat sleeping in his lap. The headphones around his neck were connected to the laptop on the well-decorated desk in front of him; on the laptop’s screen was the ending of a recording.

Still looking at the cat in his lap, a light smile graced his lips. Softly scratching under the animal’s chin, he whispered:

“Kuro’s such an idiot. Won’t you agree?”


	3. Chapter 3

“Yeah… I have a feeling that’s not _actually_ what happened.”

 From across the living room, a lethargic voice rose. The owner of the voice is a young man in his twenties, with an undercut and slicked-back blonde hair, piercings, and dark gray eyes; he was currently lounging on the fluffy beanbag next to the fireplace. On the opposite side, a short ginger shot up from his seat, slamming his hands onto the mini wooden table:

“What on Earth do you mean by that?!”

“Oi, your hands are dirty. Get ‘em off.” Next to Hinata, a lanky man with spiked-up crimson hair swatted his hands off, causing the ginger to almost fall face first onto the table. Huffing, Hinata sat back down onto the couch, arms crossed:

“You asked me what happened, but you don’t even wanna listen—”

“I do!” On the longer side of the couch, another man with spiky, owl-like black-and-white hair and a strong build raised his hand, round golden eyes sparkling excitedly. The bald one sitting next to him pushed his arm back down slowly:

“Bokuto, we appreciate the enthusiasm, but chill out for a moment. Hinata, bruh, we do wanna know. It’s just that… you’re not making a lot of sense.”

“What?!” Hinata yelled, face red. “Where am I not making sense?”

“Well, you did say that after being decked by this two-meter tall mohawk man, Kuroo told you that a gnome shot Oikawa in the head, and that he was good as dead; and then Kuroo shot off like a hungry cat.”

“… Where am I not making sense?”

“Maybe the part where I was _dead_?!” An extremely cross voice behind the ginger made him jump, and from the direction of the infirmary, a fuming brunette stormed in. He was half-naked, his right shoulder and head wrapped up in fresh bandages; but it did not stop him from barging in and almost strangling Hinata. “Is that all I am to you? Bait?! A shot in the shoulder and I was “good as dead”, huh? So you wanna get rid of me that badly? I’ll have you know, shrimp, that I—”

“That you’re being way to loud, Oikawa.” A familiar voice made all of them freeze. “I could hear you from the entrance.”

“KUROO-SAAA— augh, you’re filthy.” Hinata sprang from his seat towards their black-haired leader, but froze right before he hit Kuroo. It was true: he was soaking wet, his hair sticking up in all sorts of weird directions; all his weapons were gone and his holsters empty; and he looked rather dazed — a strange expression to be seen on Kuroo. “What happened?”

“Yeah, we heard you guys were attacked? And then you ran after them?” The buff guy — Bokuto — rose from his seat. “I mean, not that that’s uncool, because it _so_ is, but what happened to you?”

“Yeah, you look like you just got mugged, Ku.” The lanky redhead added, his eyes scanning Kuroo from head to toe. “Where’s your stuff?”

Their leader seemed more out of it than usual. His blank hazel eyes looked up at Oikawa.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” The brunette replied with evidently less huffing than usual. “He shot me in the shoulder and then knocked me out with his gun. Guess the bastard didn’t have enough guts to actually kill.”

“… Oh.” Was all Kuroo said, before turning away. “I’m going to bed.”

Looking at his lean figure trudging off, Hinata twitched like he was about to race after their black-haired leader. But Oikawa and the redhead’s arms were there to stop him at once. The ginger asked surprisedly:

“Oikawa-san, Tendou-san?”

“Let him go.” The redhead — Tendou — said quietly. “Whatever happened, it sure shook him in one way or another.”

“That’s why I wanna know!”

“Me too, kiddo. But don’t worry; Kuroo will tell us eventually.” Tendou smiled faintly, before straightening up and clapping his hands, “Alright, everyone, I do believe it’s bedtime for us too. Come on now, let’s go, let’s go!”

A collective groan could be heard — understandable, since Kuroo just gave them a real-life cliffhanger. But as everyone walked off to their respective rooms, they couldn’t help but worry for their leader; what could possibly have happened that could have left _the_ Kuroo Tetsurou that shaken?

 

***

 

“So you mean to tell me…”

“Yes, sir.”

“... that the client is dead.”

“Yes, sir.”

Nekomata leaned back in his chair, one hand raised to pinch his nose bridge. The atmosphere in the boardroom was tense enough to make anyone sweat, and although the seven who were just summoned weren’t ordinary in the least, they could still feel the overwhelming pressure.

“Why?”

Silence. Then, a monotonous answer by Kuroo:

“There were three attackers. Mr. Payne was killed by a stray bullet.”

“This should have been an easy mission for you three! Since when did EF allow three mere attackers to stop them?” Nekomata’s assistant, Naoi, snapped, but that seemed to only add more weight to the already heavy silence. They all knew what he said was true. Since when did _the Elite Force_ allow three mere attackers to stop them?

Fourteen years ago, the Japanese government came up with an idea after seeing that they had an excellent generation of new cadets. Out of the hundreds young boys and girls that joined, only three would be chosen to form the basics of the first Elite Force. Thus, all of them endured rigorous training regimens, difficult tests, and grueling missions. Needless to say, the number of participants dropped rapidly, and at the end of the first nine years, only three made the cut. These were the first members of EF: Kuroo Tetsurou, Bokuto Koutarou and Oikawa Tooru; and they did not disappoint the government. Every mission they participated in was a complete success, to the point that despite EF’s existence not being a public matter within the government and military, everyone knew they were a force to be reckoned with. Because of this reason, the Elite Force got approval to become a standalone squad; the program also continued on for five more years, until EF found its other five members. As the trump card of the military and government, they have managed to turn the tides even when the only option left seemed to be failure. Rumor has it that when you see seven men completely in black show up at the battlefield, led by a tall ravenette wearing a sinister smile, your wisest next move would probably be to pray.

So it was certainly out of the ordinary for them to have failed like this.

Despite his own shock, the old General raised a hand to stop his assistant. Looking at the seven men in front of him with an especially sharp gaze, he ordered:

“I need a detailed written report by tomorrow evening latest. Include everything you deem noteworthy. Additionally, your next mission will be tracking down whoever you think was responsible for Payne’s death, and dealing with them in whichever way you deem most suitable. I want all of you involved. Understood?”

“Yes, General.” The reply was loud and crisp. Cracking a smile, Nekomata said:

“Do not let me down again. Dismissed.”

Swiftly bowing, the seven men exited the room. Once the doors were closed, a loud exhale could be heard:

“Pheeeew! I thought he was going to have all of us killed or something like that!”

The person who’d just spoken was a handsome but sloppy young man. His blonde, undercut hair was slicked back, clearly revealing his earrings; he had one hand shoved deep into his sweatpants’ pocket while the other was already swiping away on his phone; and when he stuck his tongue out to squint at the screen, a silver barbell flashed.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Teru.” In front of him, Oikawa chided half-jokingly, though his smirk seemed to be lacking humor. “The old man wouldn’t dare go that far.”

“So anyway,” Hinata’s chirpy voice cut in, “are we supposed to find those attackers? Kuroo-san, where should we start?”

All eyes were on their leader at the front; but, almost as if he did not hear the question, Kuroo continued walking, immersed in silence. It was only when Hinata smacked the back of his head that he’d jolted:

“Ack! You little… What do you want?”

“Great job spacing out there, Tetsu-chan.” Oikawa scoffed lightly. “We were just thinking, since you were the oh-so-great hero who’d blindly sped off after the attackers, maybe you’d have an idea of who they are, or who they work for?”

“I—” Kuroo furrowed his brows, seemingly more flustered than usual. “I don’t know. They knocked me out and ransacked me before disappearing.”

“Oooh?! What did I just hear?” From the back, Tendou shot up eagerly, slinging his long arm around their poor leader’s neck. “ _The_ Kuroo Tetsurou was knocked out _and_ robbed by three amateurs? Ku, you seem to be getting a little rustyyy~”

“Shut your mouth, Tendou.” Kuroo threw the redhead’s arm off of himself. “How ‘bout you try to take them all on, huh?”

“Augh, I would’ve!” Tendou howled, faking misery, before his crimson eyes lit up. “Y’know, if it was me, I bet they would be six feet underground right now! You could probably have done it too… but you _didn’t_. So _what_ _happened_ , Kuroo?”

“Agh, gimme a break!” The rooster-head spat, harsher than he’d intended. Perhaps realizing that himself, he sucked in a large breath, before turning away and mumbling under his breath, “Let’s just head back for now. We’ll, uh, have a meeting tomorrow morning, after breakfast. We can figure things out then.”

“Hmm…” Tendou hummed as one of the other members yanked him back — a bald guy, with honest eyes and a threatening expression on his face:

“Why the heck did you do that?”

“Calm your titties, Tanaka.” The flippant response only managed to enhance Tanaka’s threatening expression; but it didn’t seem to bother Tendou as he continued, “Don’t deny it: you wanna know too, don’tcha? Besides… Kuroo usually never take my baits. Hm, I wonder what’s gotten into him.”

In the back of their ride back home, Kuroo sat silently with his laptop on his thighs. In the back of his mind, a recurring slideshow of the pictures from Nekoma ran and ran. As his fingers flew restlessly on the keyboard, a slight frown appeared on Kuroo’s face. He wondered what the new feeling rising inside him was.

_“If you care about justice as much as you claim to, you should understand that we are right.”_

For the first time after a long, long time, Kuroo began to doubt.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! Our first fanfiction together is here! Hope you enjoy ;p


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